


Exhaling Invisible Fire

by gonergone



Series: A Bit of a Rest [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonergone/pseuds/gonergone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Wizarding World tries to get itself back in order, Harry needs takes the opportunity for a rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaling Invisible Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChokolatteJedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/gifts).



Afterward, after all of it, Harry expected his life to return to normal. Or at least, a version of normal that included helping put the wizarding world back together again and didn't include having people try to kill him all the time. 

That was really all he wanted, all he had ever wanted. He should've known it wouldn't work out that way.

*

The nightmares were the worst. He couldn't even blame them on a link with Voldemort anymore – the images were all his. After each one, Harry would lie awake, staring unseeing at the ceiling and covered in sweat, resisting the urge to get dressed and floo over to the Burrow or Hermione's flat to make sure his friends were really alive and whole, that none of the terrible things he was afraid of had actually happened. 

The nightmares were the worst, but at least he always woke up from them in the end. When he doubled over in Diagon Alley one day with Ron and Ginny, clutching his chest and having difficulty breathing, his first thought was that he was having a heart attack, that he was dying, right there on the street with strangers staring at him, their eyes wide and hands clutching their wands uncertainly. It wasn't a heart attack, of course, and he didn't die. "Panic attack," one of the mediwizards noted with a shrug, as if that explained everything, or anything at all.

They gave him several murky brown potions to take and sent him home.

The potions didn't really help, though. The nightmares never went away, not really, and Harry started to avoid going to sleep as long as he could, sitting up at the kitchen table of his flat, staring at the pages of books until the words swam and eventually he'd nod off, only to scream himself awake an hour later. 

He was exhausted all the time, anxious and irritable. He snapped at Ginny and stormed out of the room, shouted at Hermione and nearly came to blows with Ron. Hermione got the concerned look in her eyes that Harry was all too familiar with – and had never expected to see again. Voldemort was _dead_. Everything was supposed to be fine. 

*

Things might have continued on like that forever, or at least until Harry landed himself in St. Mungo's, if Ginny hadn't stopped by. Harry had been dreading the conversation he knew was coming, dreading it for weeks, but he hadn't been expecting her to be carrying a wrapped parcel almost as big as she was. 

"You're being an idiot," she told him as she followed him into the kitchen.

"I know," he said. It was true. He was usually an idiot. He had hoped that was one of the things she liked about him.

She propped the parcel against the wall and sat down. "Mum says you won't let the healers look after you properly."

"So they can tell everyone that I've gone mad? Again?" Harry asked bitterly.

"You're not going mad," Ginny protested.

" _I_ know that – mostly. Sometimes I do wonder," Harry admitted. 

"You're not," Ginny said firmly. "And I don't wonder. I know you're not, so I need you to trust me." She looked at him until Harry nodded. "Good. You _died_ , Harry. You don't just get over that. Mum thinks – and I think, too – that being here and reading all the trial information in the _Daily Prophet_ isn't helping, either. It just dredges up the same stuff again and again."

Harry sighed. "I'm not sure there's anywhere in the wizarding world I could get away from the trials," he said wearily. It was true enough – the whole world seemed interested in every sordid detail that came out. Harry had only got himself a flat because the reporters hanging about the Burrow had been an issue for the Weasleys.

For the first time since she'd arrived, Ginny smiled. It was a grim smile, but it was there. "Actually," she said slowly, "Mum had an idea about that, too." She nodded at the parcel. 

"What is it?" Harry asked, reaching for it.

"No idea," Ginny shrugged. "It's not for you, anyway."

Harry drew his hand back. "What?"

"She wants you to bring that to Charlie. It's too big to use an owl, obviously, and since you can't Apparate into the dragon sanctuary it's a bit of a problem finding the time to go to Romania to drop it off personally. Everyone's too busy."

Harry eyed the parcel suspiciously. "She wants me to deliver that? And then come back?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She thought it might do you some good to stay on a bit. I've been there, and it's nothing but mountains and dragons. Charlie doesn't even read the newspapers, so you wouldn't hear about the trials at all. Plus, no one would think to look for you there. She said it would be the perfect place for a bit of a rest."

"It sounds…" _boring_ , Harry wanted to say. He was trying to figure out what his life looked like now that Voldemort really was gone for good, and being surrounded by nothing but mountains and dragons definitely was not going to help. His enthusiasm for magical creatures had never been very high to begin with, and none of his encounters with dragons had made him want to spend more time with them. Ever, actually. "Charlie's working, isn't he?" he asked, switching tacks. "Won't I be in the way?"

"Actually, Charlie complains all the time about needing competent help. You might be the closest he'll get."

Harry glared at her, and she shrugged. "You've got a little experience with dragons," she reminded him. "Remember Norbert?"

Harry grimaced. "Norberta, I heard," he corrected. "It's a miracle no one died."

"Well, exactly. Charlie's always saying that the problem with people and dragons is that people underestimate the dragon's ability to kill them, and I don't think you're likely to do that, are you? Between Norberta and the triwizard tournament you've nearly been killed by dragons at least twice, which is much more experience than Charlie had when he started."

Harry thought about the blind dragon trapped in Gringotts and shuddered. He didn't think telling Ginny about that would help his case. It mattered quite a lot that Mrs. Weasley had come up with such an elaborate plan to help him, and the last thing he wanted was to seem like he didn't care enough to even consider it, but there was no way he was going to have anything resembling _rest_ in Romania. That was really all there was to it. 

"Also," Ginny added, as if it were an afterthought, "Charlie mentioned that your job down there would mostly be spending time on your broom all day, trying to outfly the dragons. I told him you probably wouldn't be interested in that at all – I mean, you haven't been on your broom in months. I suppose you've outgrown flying." 

*

The thing was, Harry thought as he watched the Romanian mountains growing gradually larger and larger outside the train window, he'd never been anywhere, really, and he'd been so wrapped up in Voldemort that it'd been easy to forget that there even was a world outside of Britain. Romania may not have been the first place he would have picked to visit, but it was certainly going to be more interesting than hiding in his flat in London.

He just hoped that "more interesting" didn't involve being dinner for one of the dragons.

*

The station outside the sanctuary was really just a small building at the edge of the tracks, deserted except for Harry as he hoisted his bag and broom off the train. He almost forgot the parcel and had to go back for it, leaning it against the closed door of the office and looking about. The mountains were nearly towering over him, but he couldn't see any dragons. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to; Ginny had said that the station was outside the preserve's invisible boundary wall, which hid the dragons from view for both Muggles and wizards, probably to prevent people from coming to gawk and attracting unwanted attention. He was still somewhat disappointed, though there was something about the rough, wild country around him that loosened the tight knot in his chest slightly.

He heard an engine rumbling in the distance, although it took him a moment to pick out the green car pelting toward him on the narrow gravel road. 

Charlie was just as Harry remembered him, though his hair was back down to his shoulders and there was a shiny new burn on the collarbone Harry saw peeking out of his shirt. His hands were still rough and callused, but he was grinning and freckled, grabbing the wrapped parcel before it could fall over into the dirt. He looked happier to see Harry than anyone else had been in a while.

"Mum's been talking about sending me a proper cook set for ages," he laughed. "The cabin didn't have much in terms of creature comforts when I moved in, and I've never managed to buy more. I suppose now that you've come to stay she wants to make sure you won't be starving to death." He shook his head, tossing the parcel into the car's boot, which, Harry noticed, held a lot more than its outward dimensions would suggest.

"I thought we'd take the scenic route into the sanctuary so I can show it off a bit. I don't get many visitors, and Mum and Dad always use the floo when they come, so you're getting the full tour." He looked at Harry, his eyes sweeping over his tired face. "Or, if you want, we can put off the tour until tomorrow morning. That would probably be better anyway – the sun is going down soon enough, so there's only so much I'll be able to show you tonight."

Harry shook his head. "I'd like to see it," he assured him, and meant it. 

Charlie smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good." There was something infectious about Charlie's smile, and Harry found himself grinning in response as he hopped into the passenger seat.

*

Romania wasn't really anything like what Harry had been expecting. 

"We had to adapt the environment a bit for the dragons," Charlie explained. "It was easier to adapt this place than to have separate preserves in various countries – that was how it used to be done, ages ago, and no one could agree on anything. Dragons tend to be one of those political touchpoints. Even the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau can be a bit of a pain in the arse sometimes, and there will always be witches and wizards who think they're just too dangerous to live in the modern world and want the whole species exterminated, and once you get politicians involved in the sanctuary the whole thing's a muddle." 

"You don't think that would ever actually happen, do you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I never would've believed it before, but after everything Fudge did to you during that whole mess…" Charlie sighed. "Hysteria can be a terrifying thing. If a dragon ever got out and attacked a town, I have no idea what would happen."

"Does that ever happen?"

"It never has. We have powerful barriers up to keep the dragons in and everything else out. That'll be your main job while you're here – patrolling the barriers and making sure there aren't any breaks. It's a lot of flying, but no really advanced magic." He touched Harry's arm lightly. "Mum made me promise I'd only work you half to death."

"She told me I was going to have a rest," Harry told him, and Charlie laughed. 

"How do you think I managed to be here all through the war, when my family was risking their lives at home? Work helps. At the very least worrying about being stalked by a dragon will keep your mind off things, that much I can promise you."

*

Charlie's cabin was set back in the trees, barely visible from the rutted gravel road. Maintenance on the road was never much of a priority, Charlie explained. They all had so much else to do that it tended to not get done. Anyway, most things were done by broom within the preserve – the sound of vehicle engines tended to attract dragons, and sometimes the dragons would attack them, which didn't usually end well. Plus, most of the witches and wizards who worked at the sanctuary didn't know how to drive. "I'll give you a better tour by broom after dinner," Charlie said, "if you're not too tired. We won't be able to get too far before it gets dark – it gets dark early here, even though we're not too high up the mountains – but it will give you an idea of the scale of the thing. Visitors aren't usually allowed to spend much time by themselves inside the sanctuary, but we've got you all sorted with a security clearance."

"Security clearance?" Harry asked, surprised.

Charlie laughed. "What do you think is the only thing keeping Hagrid from coming here and 'finding' eggs? He's not the only one, either. There are dragon-mad people in every country, but they're usually harmless. The real dangers are people who'd want to use dragons as weapons – as if they could ever be controlled – or Merlin knows what else. Tom is one of the security people, and you wouldn't believe the stories he has. I used to have nightmares about what the twins might do –" he stopped suddenly, realizing what he had said, and glanced away for a moment. 

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Eventually there would come a time when someone could mention the twins without everyone freezing, but he didn't think that was happening anytime in the near future. Hermione had always been good at that sort of thing, but he'd never quite gotten the knack of sympathizing without making the situation worse. At least Ron would have been able to tell a joke, even a terrible one. 

"Anyway," Charlie said, clearing his throat, "you won't be allowed to work directly with the dragons, but you've still got the run of the place."

He pulled to a stop outside the small wooden cabin. Rustic was the word that sprang to Harry's mind, and he only hoped there were some magical amenities inside. Otherwise, the cabin didn't look big enough to house one person, let alone two.

"It's bigger than it looks," Charlie assured him. "We like to keep the potential targets as small as possible. Oh, and don't worry about the wood, either. It's non-burning. Doesn't mean they won't have a go at it every once in a while, but I promise you won't feel a thing when they do."

Harry couldn't help a nervous glance up at the sky. They hadn't seen any dragons yet, but Charlie had pointed out the magical barrier as they'd crossed over it so Harry knew they were out there.

"We're close to the edge of the boundary here," Charlie told him, pointing behind the cabin. "It doesn't really hurt them when they hit the magical wall, but it's not very pleasant, either. They learn to stay well clear of it, unless something specific attracts them. It's pretty unusual to see one from the cabin – not impossible, mind you, but unlikely. It's good to keep an eye out, just in case."

"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered. 

Charlie smirked as he pushed open the door. "Right."

*

It _was_ bigger on the inside, much to Harry's relief, but besides a large fireplace and running water it didn't have very many comforts. 

"Other than sleeping, I don't spend a lot of time here," Charlie explained, looking a little sheepish as he pointed Harry to the small guest room. "Lavigne, the bloke who lived here before me, had it all done up with extension charms and that sort of thing, but it was ages ago. They've mostly worn off now, and I've never bothered to renew them."

"It's fine," Harry said, and meant it. 

"There are two bedrooms, and the kitchen is sorted, at least. Are you hungry now, or would you rather do the tour and eat afterward?"

"Tour," Harry said immediately. He'd been itching to get on his broom and fly since Ginny had mentioned it, dragons or no dragons. 

Charlie laughed. "Good. It's been ages since I had someone new to fly with."

*

Charlie led him along the border wall's edge, teaching him to see the slight wavy tint of it in the late afternoon sunlight. "You don't want to run into that full tilt," he warned. "It will knock you off your broom for sure. It can work to your advantage when you're being chased, though – just go at it as fast as you can and turn away at the last second."

Harry swallowed hard. He knew from experience that he was a lot more maneuverable than a dragon, but he wasn't keen on testing that again unless he really had to. 

Flying up high, though, above the trees with the boundary wall behind them and the mountain peaks immense ahead of them, he forgot his nervousness. Up there, it was easy to forget everything and just enjoy the sun and limitless sky. 

"Too bad we don't have a snitch, or even a Quaffle," Charlie said, leaning back on his broom and watching the clouds. "I'll have to borrow one some evening so we can play. There used to be fairly regular friendly matches – not regulation Quidditch, or even anything close, but there aren't enough of us to fill an entire Quidditch side most days. I think that's the one thing I really miss, being here." 

He pointed back past the cabin, along the road they'd driven in on. "The area we need to patrol extends from a mile or so west of the cabin to a mile or so east of it. Dragons are territorial by nature, and we've got five that regularly will be in this area, plus a few juveniles that haven't got their own set place yet that might wander in from time to time. Those are the ones you have to be careful about, because they're looking to stake a claim and are more likely to come after you. You know what a Swedish Short-Snout looks like, right? There are a couple of those, and a Common Welsh Green that Tom calls Brian for some reason. You won't see much of him – they don't like people much, the Greens. They'll all be males over here – the females are stronger and more violent, so we have to keep them separated until the males have a chance to get a bit bigger, or it would be a bloodbath. Sometimes it still is."

Charlie showed him what breaks in the protective boundary spells looked like – almost like rips in the sky. "We try to fix them before they get this big, he said, flicking his wand and watching the discolored spot disappear. "I kept this spot to show you. In a place like Hogwarts you wouldn't have to worry about the spells decaying in spots so much, but when you're dealing with something like dragons you can never be too careful." He glanced at the vanishing sunlight and sighed. "I'll have to show you the rest tomorrow. Ready for dinner?"

*

Charlie wasn't a fancy cook, but he had obviously learned a lot from Mrs. Weasley and managed to make a pot roast that tasted so much like the Burrow that Harry felt a wave of homesickness.

Afterward, they stood in the open space of the sitting room and Charlie showed Harry a few charms he'd learned to ward off the dragons. 

" _Conjunctivitis_ is a good one, but it only really works if you've got a direct shot to the eyes. If you're on a broom and the dragon is chasing you, it's better to aim for the wings with _Cadentium_ or perform some sort of illusion charm on yourself. Just don't forget that they can smell you better than they can see you."

Charlie lazily tossed pillows into the air for Harry to charm, trying to make them fall like stones but mostly doing nothing much at all.

"Hermione was always better at this," Harry muttered after an hour.

"You're doing better than I did when I started," Charlie assured him. "You need to lock your wrist, that's all." He demonstrated a few times himself, then wrapped his hand around Harry's wrist to show him the motion. He was a more patient teacher than Hermione had ever been, though Harry missed her sighs of frustration sometimes. 

Eventually declared the lesson enough of a success for Harry to be out flying the next day and sent him to bed. He was surprised at how exhausted he was, considering he hadn't done anything terribly strenuous all day, but it was just as well. Charlie had warned him that they'd be getting up early the next day, and every day after that. The sanctuary didn't have proper weekends, since the dragons and the wall always needed to be tended to. Harry could already see that resting was the last thing he was going to do, but he was more relieved than anything about that. 

For the first time in a long time, Harry slept without nightmares.

*

The days resolved themselves into a routine faster than Harry would've believed. Charlie would usually wake him up before dawn, and they'd quickly eat some breakfast and drink more than a little coffee. Charlie would make them simple lunches, usually sandwiches, while Harry packed extra coffee to warm them up in the chilly mountain air. They'd take a quick patrol around the area together, then they'd split up: Harry to monitor the boundary wall and Charlie to wrangle the dragons. 

It took Harry five or six times as long to repair any tears he found in the wall's charms than it would've taken Charlie, but he was never in much of a hurry. He spent most of the first few days looking over his shoulder, twisting on his broom at every crash in the brush, but eventually the constant awareness of his surroundings just became second nature. It wasn't, after all, that different from how they had lived on the run, and Harry would rather face a rampaging dragon any day than Voldemort or a handful of Death Eaters. 

It felt good not to have any real responsibilities besides what was right in front of him. As Charlie had said, the dragons seemed to avoid getting too close to the boundary, and he only really felt vulnerable when he was flying high above the trees, following the wall to its domed top high above the valley floor. It was always cold and windy up there, and after the first day Harry borrowed several heavy wool robes from Charlie to wrap himself in. When he got to the end of their area he'd turn around, stopping for lunch somewhere along the way. His third day he saw what looked like a Chinese Fireball a few miles away, hovering just along the tree line. It had moved around the slope of the mountain and out of sight before Harry could get his Omnioculars out for a better look. Closer in, Harry had spied the tail end of the Welsh Green once or twice, disappearing into the canopy. He was rather disappointed at the lack of dragons, but Charlie just laughed and told him it was just as well.

As the sun started to go down they'd meet back up at the cabin, with whoever got there first responsible for starting dinner. They'd eat and talk about Quidditch or dragons or London, though sometimes Charlie would tell funny stories about growing up in a house with six siblings or mutter darkly about the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau – safe subjects, Harry realized. They never talked about the war, or the trails that no doubt were continuing, or even mention the names of the dead. Harry suspected Mrs. Weasley's hand in it, from the uncertain way Charlie looked at him when conversation lagged, and felt a hot jet of irritation at being treated like he was fragile.

Harry hadn't sent or received any owls since he'd arrived, but Charlie went to the sanctuary's owlery every day on his rounds, so Harry knew he'd been getting news. 

"Who are they on now, in the trials?" Harry asked him one evening. "Or are you not supposed to tell me?"

Charlie winced. "You know it's not that anything is being kept from you, Harry. You're meant to be – "

"Having a rest. I know. I don't need protecting."

"Taking a break from all of that, I was going to say, and no one's protecting you. Well," he added, "Mum is, but you're not getting away from that in this lifetime no matter what you think. Believe me, I've tried." He ran his hands through his hair ruefully. "We can talk about whatever you want."

Harry's anger evaporated as quickly as it had collected. It wasn't fair to take it out on Charlie, of all people. The truth was he _didn't_ want to talk about it, not really. 

"Do you know what the thing I think about the most is?" Charlie asked. "I used to get these owls from Mum at least four times a week. It was worst when I was at Hogwarts – then she'd send Howlers. _'Do you know what Fred and George have been up to? Why aren't you making sure they're not getting into trouble! You're supposed to look after them!'_ That sort of thing, as if any human being on the planet has ever been able to control a single thing the twins have got up to. She'd detail everything they'd done," he said, smiling. "I used to read those letters out loud and have everyone rolling on the floor. They helped me make my first friends here. Everyone loved them but me. I never thought I'd miss them." He sighed, pressing his fingers against the edge of the table. "I wasn't there. I should have been, I think. I might've been able to help, at least in that last battle. Everyone kept telling me how important it was for me to stay here, to try to recruit, and I listened to them. Why did I listen to them? I just… I should've been there."

Harry felt more than a little helpless in the face of that confession, quiet as it was. If it had been Ron he could have put an arm round his shoulders and thought of something to say, however inadequate, but he didn't know Charlie well enough for that. Instead, he reached out and lightly touched the back of Charlie's hand. He was surprised when warm fingers closed over his. Charlie squeezed once and let go. They sat in silence for a long time, but it was a more comfortable silence.

*

It might've been talking about the trials, even just mentioning them, that did it. Harry woke up in the dark, gasping and flailing, fighting off attackers who had been there only a second ago. 

"Harry! Harry –" Arms were wrapping around him, trapping him, and he fought against them until his fist connected with something solid. Then they were gone.

Harry slumped back, breathing hard and trying to figure out where he was. Everything was dark and silent, but a moment ago there had been – he had been sure they were – Realization clicked and he peered over the edge of the bed to where Charlie was kneeling beside it, clutching his nose.

"Shit," Harry exclaimed, scrambling up to squat beside him. 

Charlie moved one of his hands so Harry could see the blood covering the bottom half of his face and gave Harry a small smile. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, relieved that Charlie was mostly okay. "I'm so sorry." He reached for the wand he kept under his pillow. "I can fix that, if you want." 

Charlie stood, waving Harry off with his free hand. "I've had worse. Much worse, actually. Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, just –" he waved a hand awkwardly. "I can't control them. That's the thing that bothers me the most. I have these potions I'm supposed to take, sleeping potions mostly, but they don't really help, they just cover everything up." He sighed. "Sorry again about waking you up."

"Don't worry about me," Charlie told him, shaking his head. "I mean it. I'll hex you if I have to." He scrubbed a hand over his face and stood. "It's nearly time for us to be up anyway. Why don't I sort out my nose and you make us some tea?"

*

With only a few hours of sleep, it took an extraordinary effort to get moving that morning. Harry looked longingly at the warm covers beckoning to him as he staggered into his clothes. From the way Charlie was yawning over their breakfast Harry wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten enough sleep, but Charlie was as cheerful as ever, chatting to Harry as he made their lunches and bundled them both out the door. It wasn't often that Charlie reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley, but just like with Ron, sometimes the resemblance was uncanny.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes from crossing as he examined the boundary wall. He usually found the mindlessness of the work soothing, but that morning it was tedious. The coffee didn't seem to be helping much, either. Harry had never performed a Rennervate charm on himself, and was hesitant to try without someone around to undo whatever damage he caused. He slumped on his broom, glaring blearily at the bright morning light.

The attack came without any warning – that's what Harry would tell Charlie later, but the truth was that even if there had been a marching band announcing the approach of the dragon Harry might not have noticed. One moment he was watching a pair of sparrows cartwheel in the breeze up the mountainside, and the next the Short-Snout's shadow was falling over him. His reaction was just a little too slow, throwing the Firebolt into a steep dive for the cover of the trees while he jerked his wand out of his pocket. 

The dragon was faster than he was, charging him full on and shooting a thick stab of flame after Harry, catching his left arm at an angle. The agony was immediate and all-consuming. It was a small miracle that he didn't fall off his broom or slam into the ground; he pulled up at the last moment, bouncing off one of the trees and into another, finally losing his grip on the Firebolt and crashing into the ground, on the ground, his broom landing a few feet away.

He lay there for what seemed like a long time, taking short, shallow breaths and trying to conquer the pain. He was still clutching his wand in his right hand, but he knew that if the Short-Snout came after him, Harry wasn't in any state to fight it.

Eventually he dragged himself up. His glasses had landed next to him, miraculously unharmed; the clothing on his right side had been completely burnt away, but it had protected him somewhat. He didn't look too hard at the blackened skin of his arm, but picked up his broom carefully with his right hand and stumbled back to the cabin on foot, resting every few meters. 

Once there, he pulled open the blue box of emergency supplies and grabbed the brown paste Charlie had shown him, slathering it on as thickly as he could. It smelled terrible, like sick, but it did stop some of the pain. Harry leaned against the kitchen wall and closed his eyes, only to have them spring open again with the horrible thought that Charlie may be as tired as he had been, maybe even as slow and clumsy.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that until a sharp pain in his side made him open his eyes again. Charlie was kneeling in front of him, examining the paste and what was left of the skin under it. Harry still couldn't bring himself to really look at the damage – it was bad; he knew that much. He watched Charlie's face instead, the brows creased in anxiety. There was a smear of dirt across Charlie's cheek, and he was flushed from the sun the same way Ron often was, which might've made Harry smile under other circumstances. Charlie's fingers were gentle as they probed the wound, his face twisting with sympathetic pain every time Harry winced. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered under his breath, stroking carefully down Harry's palm until he was satisfied the muscles were still working. 

"Do I need a healer?" he asked, meeting Charlie's eyes.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't think so. It's already mending, and it looks like it didn't get a direct hit on your skin. Was this a Fireball?"

"Short-Snout."

Charlie's eyebrows went up in surprise and he let out a low whistle. 

"I wasn't being very vigilant," Harry admitted. 

"Well, you're a real dragon keeper now," Charlie said, smiling. "It's probably going to scar a bit, especially on the back of the arm. If you want to get a healer, they might be able to restore it completely." 

Harry shook his head. "I don't mind a scar." Another scar, though one connected to pleasant times, for the most part.

Charlie nodded. "We don't send anyone home without at least one impressive scar, but you don't want to overdo it. Mum will kill us both." 

Harry gave him a wan smile, which made Charlie chuckle. 

"You're going to be fine, but I think you should take a sleeping potion for now. By the time you wake up, the worst of the healing should be over." Charlie set a vial on the counter, leaving it up to Harry whether to take it or not. 

He downed it quickly, tasting a pleasant mix of lemon and herbs, and everything became rather blurry and far away after that. He was vaguely aware of Charlie's arms around him, helping him stand, then sitting him on the edge of the bed and charming the damaged arm so Harry wouldn't bump it in his sleep.

"You're good at that," Harry told him muzzily, and was rewarded with a grin.

"I should be; I've done it enough around here."

Harry couldn't keep his eyes open. The pain had faded to almost nothingness – more of an ache than anything else. He felt Charlie pull the covers over him, tucking him in securely, and the mattress dip as Charlie sat down beside him. He thought he felt him ruffle Harry's hair gently, but he was already out. 

*

There was a scar, the flesh on the side of his left arm slightly mottled and pink from elbow to wrist. Harry found himself running his fingers over it absently during the day, always surprised anew at the strangeness of it. Charlie had shown Harry three or four of his own impressive scars – mostly burn scars, though across his stomach was a gigantic slash that Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley couldn't know about. 

"Horntail," Charlie explained shortly, touching the puckered flesh with a rueful expression. "Not the same one you fought at the Tournament, but her older sister." 

Scarred or not, his arm was fine. The nightmares stayed. They came almost every night, and Charlie had gotten good at waking Harry up without touching him, sitting on the edge of the bed and talking soothingly while Harry caught his breath and tried to recover. 

The nightmares stayed, but they did change. Instead of seeing Ron, Hermione and Ginny dead, torn apart by Voldemort, there were unfocused images, things he couldn't remember once he woke up. Charlie was there, in the dreams, probably because Harry could hear his voice before he woke up, and because he knew that once he did wake Charlie would be sitting next to him, waiting for him. It helped.

He never mentioned the nightmares – neither of them did. Unlike everyone else Harry knew, Charlie didn't push him to try to stop them or even question their cause; he just sat beside Harry night after night, offering his quiet support. Harry knew that everyone else meant well, but Charlie was the first person to actually offer what Harry needed – what Harry himself hadn't even realized he needed until he got it.

It was only when Charlie made an offhand comment about Harry being back in London that Harry felt a flash of panic. Of course he knew he'd be leaving soon, but the idea of actually leaving was a lot less inviting than he would have thought. Life in the sanctuary was so peaceful that the last thing Harry wanted, as much as he missed his friends, was to go back to London anytime soon. He mulled the problem over for a few days, considering his options, few as they were. 

"What sort of training did you need before you got a job here?" he asked idly during Saturday's roast chicken dinner.

Charlie cocked his head at him. "Nothing too academic, really – OWLs and NEWTS in Care of Magical creatures, a decent OWL in Transfiguration, Potions, and Outstanding in Charms. Mostly they're looking for a certain type of person, one that isn't going to flinch when they've got Ridgebacks bearing down on them. Idiots, in other words," he smiled.

"I could do that."

Charlie looked at him skeptically. 

"You don't think so?" Harry asked, deflating somewhat.

"I think you could, sure," Charlie said slowly. "There's no question of that at all. You're braver than just about anyone I've ever met. But I don't think you'd be happy here for very long. It can be a bit lonely."

" _You_ don't seem lonely."

Charlie snorted, turning back to his food. 

"I wouldn't mind lonely," Harry insisted. "I'd actually really appreciate lonely, to be honest."

Charlie sighed. "I think you feel that way now, but it's only temporary. You just won a war, Harry – you can't expect things to feel normal right now."

"I don't think things have ever felt normal. I don't really know what normal is," Harry told him.

"You'll figure it out."

Harry put down his fork, gathering his courage. "I like being here," he started, quietly.

"I like having you here," Charlie told him swiftly, "but I'm not sure it's the right place for you on a more permanent basis." 

"Do you think – would it be possible for me to stay longer?" He hated asking. He had no real idea what Charlie did when Harry wasn't there to look after, and he hated imposing on that possible other life. "I don't think I'm ready to go back."

"Of course," Charlie told him. "As long as you like."

"I don't want – "

"You're not a burden," Charlie said firmly. "I meant what I said."

Harry went to bed that night feeling distinctly more cheerful.

*

He'd begun been sending owls every week or so to Ron and Hermione, and writing to tell them he'd be staying on in Romania was easy. It was the owl to Ginny that was difficult. He wasn't sure if that was the sort of thing she'd want to know, if they were dating. He wasn't even sure they _were_ dating; they'd never talked about it after the final battle – between everything that happened then and the awful mess Harry's life had turned into after there hadn't been a real opportunity. It was certainly possible, after the way he'd been acting, that she'd gone off him entirely. He didn't like to think that – hated it, really – but he knew it was a possibility. He tapped the edge of his quill against the paper for a long time before he pushed it aside. He hadn't gotten any further than her name, and he still had no idea what he was going to say.

"Trouble?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. He was polishing his broomstick in the chair by the window, and Harry envied the fact that _he_ didn't have any letters to write. 

"When I left, things were rushed," he said, understating the facts slightly. "I'm not sure what to say."

"And you haven't sent her any owls," Charlie pointed out. 

"She hasn't sent me any, either!"

"Trouble, then."

Harry sighed. "Trouble," he agreed. "I didn't leave on the best of terms with anyone. I was a bit of a prat, I expect," he admitted.

"I'm sure they're used to that."

"I'm not very good at relationships."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there," Charlie told him. "I'm not very good at them either. In fact, I think my track record might be worse than yours."

Harry looked up, interested. "Really?"

"Well, for one thing I live _here_ , which is not exactly conducive to romance. The only people stupid enough to date someone who loves dragons so much they choose to work here are _other_ people who love dragons enough to work here, and there just isn't anyone on staff at the moment that I'd consider. Mum thinks I should move back to London. Bill managed it, and a year later he was married… I think that's the idea. She wants us all to be settled and happy where she can keep an eye on us."

"This is better than London," Harry told him.

"Well, _I_ think that, but I'm obviously mad. I'm not going to leave, and that might mean nothing is ever going to change for me. I don't really mind that most of the time; I've always been better with animals than people," he shrugged. "This is my home, for better or worse."

Harry looked around at the candlelight, the threadbare sofa, the roaring fire in the fireplace. "You could do worse."

Charlie just snorted, his expression somewhat grim.

*

"We gave up using snitches after we lost a few, so it won't be a real match," Charlie said as they approached the clearing. "Bludgers, too. One escaped and nearly killed some poor bloke in town. With this lot, it's better anyway. I should warn you that they're the worst cheaters you'll ever play against, a friendly match or not. Last time Lise pushed me off my broom and I broke my leg." He smiled, remembering. "We still won, though," he added with satisfaction. Harry had to swallow down the sudden nervousness that erupted in his stomach. 

There were five people waiting for them in a small clearing just outside the main gate of the sanctuary, who were quickly introduced to Harry as fellow sanctuary workers Tom, Lise, Franz, and Bernadette. Harry made a mental note to keep an eye on Lise, a tall blonde who shook his hand hard enough to hurt. He though he saw her smile at his pain. 

"Charlie says you're an excellent Quidditch player," she said doubtfully.

Harry could feel himself starting to blush. "I'm all right."

"He's _much_ better than all right," Charlie interrupted, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry leaned into him gratefully.

Lise didn't look convinced. "Ever play Chaser? Or were you wasting all your time seeking, like Charlie?"

"She's not much of a fan of seekers," Charlie explained. "Thinks one good catch shouldn't outweigh the goals the Chasers are killing themselves making. Of course, she also thinks hexes should be allowed and that referees are the worst thing that ever happened to the game, so." He smiled, and Harry smiled back. This was starting to sound like it was going to be a lot of fun.

"We're playing for night duty," Bernadette announced. "Whoever wins gets to do days for another month."

"Which means you're going down, Weasley," Lise told him, smirking. "There is no way I'm getting stuck with nights again."

They didn't have proper equipment at all, just a battered old Quaffle and a few hoops created from the nearby trees, bending the branches into rough circles. They played just outside the boundary wall, close enough to keep an eye on things yet outside the reach of any curious dragons. 

Harry hadn't really ever liked playing Chaser, even in friendly matches, but just the opportunity to play at all was sweeter than he would've expected. Lise wasn't the only competitive one and he actually had to work to score goals, pulling out every trick the Firebolt was capable of. 

When they won – inevitably, Charlie said with a laugh – Harry landed with a thump next to Charlie and Bernadette, breathing hard and raking his fingers through his windblown hair. Charlie reached over and pulled him into a half-hug, grinning at Lise's scowl. 

"I'll be paying for this for ages," he told Harry. "Lise is the sorest loser I've ever met."

"Worth it, though?" Harry teased.

"Of course."

He leaned against Charlie as he watched Franz and Tom change all the trees back to their usual shapes, Bernadette flying above the trees with Harry's Omnioculars to see if there was anything they needed to worry about happening inside the sanctuary. He didn't want to move, he realized, Charlie didn't seem in any hurry to move away, either, his arm around Harry tightening as they watched everyone else.

*

After dinner they sat up together on the porch steps, close enough that their arms brushed every time they took a sip of their firewhisky. It was cool and getting cooler as the last of the light seeped out of the sky.

"I don't thinking I really have anything to go back to," Harry admitted in the quiet. Saying it out loud made it seem truer.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Charlie frown at him. "What do you mean? Of course you do. You have friends and people who love you like family. You have a whole country indebted to you –" 

"That's not what I mean. I spent so long fighting Voldemort that it was _all_ I did. Now I just have no idea where I fit."

Charlie chuckled. "Welcome to being an adult. No one knows where they fit at the beginning. I certainly didn't. The fun is figuring it out."

"I don't really feel like an adult. And it definitely doesn't feel like fun."

"No one ever _feels_ like an adult. That's the secret. You just pretend you know what you're doing, and eventually it doesn't feel like a huge lie. It gets better. It really does." He patted Harry's arm reassuringly and left his hand there, the warmth of his fingers seeping into Harry's bare skin. "Mum told me you wanted to be an auror."

"I did," Harry shrugged.

"Don't you still?"

Harry had to think about it. "I do. Just, not right now."

"You're tired. Of course you're tired. You should know, though, Harry – Voldemort was an once-in-a-lifetime Dark Wizard. You could spend a hundred years as an auror and never see anything like him again." 

"I'm not afraid," Harry started.

"I know you're not. Everyone knows you're not. But no one could blame you if you didn't want to spend your whole life fighting something like that, either. The world has more than just death and destruction in it, Harry. You haven't gotten to really enjoy the good bits yet, that's all." His thumb rubbed light circles in Harry's arm, making Harry's mouth go a little dry. He wondered if Charlie was even aware he was doing it.

"I've had some good bits," Harry protested. "This is good."

"And you'll have more," Charlie said simply. " _A lot_ more. You get to decide exactly what you want in your life. You have so much to look forward to. There's no reason at all to rush, but I think it's far too early in the game to start thinking you have nothing to go back to."

"You seem awfully keen on getting me to leave when you told me you wanted me to stay," Harry said hotly.

"I'm not keen on you leaving, but I don't want you to stay for the wrong reasons, either."

"What would the right reasons be?"

Charlie looked away, into the darkness. "You need to figure that one out for yourself."

*

The next morning Charlie woke Harry up long before dawn. "I had an idea," he said, as Harry blinked sleep from his eyes and started pulling on his clothes. 

Charlie handed him a thick woolen cloak as he led him outside. "It'll be cold where we're going. We could use a warming charm, but it's hard to do on a broom."

Harry wrapped it around himself as he yawningly mounted his broom. "Where _are_ we going?"

"North and east. Higher into the mountains."

Harry thought for a minute. "I thought that was where the female dragons were."

Charlie grinned at him. "It is." He pushed off before Harry could ask him anything else, and Harry had to rush to follow him, barely able to see anything in the utter darkness. He trusted that Charlie knew the way. 

*

They flew until the sun had almost crested the highest mountains, and Harry's hands felt like blocks of ice. Charlie had handed him a small flask of coffee as they flew, which had helped keep Harry awake and warm as they flew, but it was long gone. They were further into the preserve than Harry had ever been before, and as the terrain was finally illuminated he looked around curiously. There was less vegetation up here, and more of the trees bore scorched bark or giant claw marks.

Eventually Charlie landed his broom along a small stream. Harry landed beside him, immediately feeling the static pull from the barrier that was set into the middle of the stream. 

"We need to be careful once we head into the next enclosure," Charlie said, eyeing the skies ahead of them warily. "She knows us, but I'm not sure that that will mean much if she decides to charge us."

"She?" Harry asked.

Charlie led him through the barrier with a flick of his wand, holding his broom in his left hand. Harry splashed after him, trying to simultaneously hold his broom and the heavy wool cloak up out of the water and make sure an irate dragon wasn't barreling down on them. "It's better if we walk. Less dangerous."

"What are we doing here?"

"You'll see."

Harry frowned, but followed him into the enclosure anyway.

*

It took nearly twenty minutes of walking before Charlie slowed, tipping his head back to look up at some overhanging cliffs. He stopped suddenly enough that Harry nearly ran into him. "There," he said softly, pointing.

Harry squinted into the dim shadows surrounding the cliff. "What –?"

The dark seemed to unwrap itself and Harry realized the dragon had been perching there. He fumbled for his wand.

"Stay still," Charlie said urgently, his own wand tracking the dragon's movements, just in case.

It flew around them in a decreasing arc, its thick black wings flapping almost lazily as it honed in on them.

"Charlie?" Harry breathed. 

"Don't worry," Charlie said tightly. 

"Really?" Harry asked, his grip on his wand tightening. 

The dragon landed abruptly about ten yards in front of them, its head down.

"If she were going to attack us, she would've done it already," Charlie told him, relaxing slightly. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Mostly." Charlie shot him a smile, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"What's it doing now?" 

"Waiting, I think. The females can be pretty unpredictable."

"Waiting for what?"

Charlie shrugged, walking forward, the hand not holding his broom held out slightly. Harry followed him hesitantly, watching the dragon's chest heaving. He could _hear_ it, the deep rumble of its breath and the tendrils of smoke rising from its nostrils. The dragon's eyes were following them both, but Harry more – he would've sworn it. 

"She will rear up before she attacks," Charlie said. "If you see it start to do that, get down and let me handle it."

Harry swallowed. They were only as few yards from it now, its body coiled and seemingly ready to spring. "Charlie…"

"It's all right, Harry. I don't think she'll hurt you, but she needs to be able to smell you. You have to get closer."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "You don't think she'll try to eat me?"

"Dragons don't eat people; there's not enough meat on us to bother with. She'll kill you, not eat you."

Harry wasn't sure that was an improvement, but he stepped close enough to the dragon so that if she struck out with one claw, it would easily kill him. The dragon leaned forward and Harry could see her inhaling. Then she leaned back again, cocking her head slightly. 

"See? She knows you."

"Is that Norberta?" Harry asked, realizing. 

"I thought she'd probably remember you. Dragons have long memories."

Harry reached forward slowly and touched the dragon's neck with his fingers lightly. 

"Do you want to try flying with her?" Charlie asked.

"Seriously?" Harry blinked at him. 

Charlie nodded. "I'll be right behind you, in case something happens."

*

Flying with a dragon was nothing like flying normally. As soon as Harry jumped onto his broom and took off, Norberta unfurled her wings and followed him. Harry spent most of the first few minutes looking over his shoulder, still clutching his wand in his hand. Charlie was right there, and Harry knew (or hoped) he'd be able to stop Norberta if she decided that she'd rather if Harry were charbroiled after all.

"Try a dive," Charlie shouted, and Harry went into a shallow dive, with Norberta following every move perfectly. He pulled out of it at the last minute, his own modified version of the Wronski feint, laughing as Norberta followed him, twisting her body to keep him right in front of her.

He ran through all the moves he could think of, gradually going much faster as he forgot his fear and concentrated on his flying. For the first time since he'd arrived he felt completely exhilarated and free.

By the time they had to get back to their sector of the preserve to handle their daily work, he felt lighter than he had in months. Maybe years.

*

They spent most of the morning up in the mountains. After Norberta got tired of them and flew away, Charlie spent an hour showing Harry his old cabin next to a waterfall on the mountain's south face. 

"You miss it up here, don't you?" That much was obvious.

They were watching some mermaids playing in the pool at the waterfall's end, and it was a long time before Charlie answered.

"Sometimes. It's complicated, because when I worked up here it was just after I left Hogwarts, and I was more than a little green. _Everything_ was still new and fascinating, and I loved every last bit of this job. I was too dumb to know how dangerous it all was, too. I _knew_ , but I still didn't connect it with the thought that I could be killed." He grinned over at Harry. "Typical kid stuff, you know. I was more than a bit of a prat. And, of course, Voldemort wasn't a threat, so far as I knew. I wasn't spending half my time worrying about what was happening back at home. I didn't worry about _anything_ , period. I wouldn't go back in time and have to relive these past few years over again for anything, but there was something special about that time."

"You can't try to transfer back here, I suppose?"

Charlie shook his head. "I could try, but I'm more settled down in the valley now. Leave the vicious females to the young idiots." He was still smiling, but Harry knew real regret when he saw it. He thought it best not to ask any more questions. 

*

Afterward, Charlie went to look after the hatchlings and Harry took a quick look at the wall. He beat Charlie back to the cabin, as he knew he would, and was eager to start dinner. When he wasn't forced to do household chores by the Dursleys, Harry found that he rather liked the experimentation of cooking. 

Opening the door, he nearly tripped over himself when he saw Lise sitting at the table, reading a book.

Harry blinked at her from the doorway, but she was so engrossed in what she was reading that she didn't seem to know he was there.

When the door clicked shut behind him, she jumped, whirling round with a smile. She froze when she saw Harry. "Oh, I thought you were Charlie." She seemed much less combative when they weren't competing for something, but Harry was still on his guard. Charlie had said that they were going to pay for winning… he noticed there was a small bag by her feet and tried to sort out what awful thing she might have brought in it.

"I didn't mean to barge in, but I didn't really fancy sitting outside until Charlie got around to coming home, either," she said, closing her book, which, Harry noticed, was titled _1001 Wizarding Things to See in Spain_.

"He should be back soon," he told her. "Did you want some tea?"

She sat back and watched him tap the kettle with his wand and pull the mugs from the cupboard. "I think it's good that you're here," she said suddenly.

"Thanks," Harry said uncertainly.

"He needs someone to look after him. Well," she said, considering, "what he really needs is a swift kick in the arse, but he could also use someone to look after him. It wouldn't hurt if you could do both, though."

"Actually, he's the one looking after me," Harry pointed out. "And he seems okay."

Lise snorted. "You must be pretty fucking bonkers if that's the case. He's been better. He's been worse, too – don't get me wrong – but he's nothing even approaching 'good' or 'okay.' We've all been worried about him since he got back from England a few months ago. Yesterday was the closest to the old Charlie I've seen, so you must be a good influence."

Harry didn't want to take credit for something he didn't think he'd actually done. "You must know him pretty well."

"We go back. I started not long before Charlie, actually, and got to show him the ropes." 

She looked wryly at the pink burns on her hands. "We're like trees, you can tell how long our lot have been here by the number of our scars. My Mum's always telling me I'll never get a husband with burns all over me, as if any sort of man worth marrying would care about a thing like that." She winked at Harry. 

"Do you work on another part of the boundary wall?" he asked as he set the mugs down on the table. 

"Sometimes," she said with a shrug. "I was never much for this sort of thing, though. Too boring. I work in the mountains, with the adult females. That's how I met Charlie – he was up there for a long time, before he requested a transfer."

Harry had been wondering about that. "Why did he do that?" The work Harry had been doing was exhausting but not as exciting as he'd thought it would be. Working with the more dangerous females, though - _that_ would be something.

Lise shrugged again, picking up her steaming mug. "He said it was too isolated up there. He wanted to be in a position to meet more people. Here he's practically in town." For the Order, Harry realized. It was a shame he was still down at the boundary wall, with the war over, when he loved it so much higher up, danger or no danger.

"It must be amazing to work up there," he said.

"It's bloody hard work," she corrected. "But fun, too, when we're not being maimed."

"Does that happen a lot?"

She laughed. "Tends to, yeah. We haven't actually lost anyone in a while, but injuries are a dime a dozen. We've got mediwizards here that would give anyone at St. Mungo's a run for their money in terms of healing severe burns and impaling. The time that Charlie took full claws right through his stomach…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I was sure he was done for. We all were – Charlie, too. I've never seen him so quiet." She shook her head, then looked at Harry with something like alarm. "Actually, you might not want to mention that one to Charlie's family. I don't think he ever told his Mum about it."

Harry, who could easily imagine Mrs. Weasley's reaction, nodded. 

"Just one of the perks of working here, along with the rampant alcoholism and not getting a lot of time to yourself."

Harry frowned. "Really?"

Lise smirked. "Charlie can drink, believe me."

"No, not that – just. Charlie mentioned that it was a bit lonely here, and it's been so quiet since I arrived."

Lise snorted. "It's not usually like that. We'd all go mad if it were just us and the dragons all day long. Usually we're all popping into each other's cabins and practically living together. You haven't seen anyone around because Charlie mentioned he'd be having a visitor, sort of warned everyone off."

"Warned everyone off?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I thought he wanted a bit of privacy – new girlfriend or something. I suppose he just wanted to keep everyone away from you. Half the preserve would be here wanting a glimpse of the actual Harry Potter."

Harry sighed. 

"Get that a lot, do you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I'm here for a bit of a rest."

She laughed. "You must be a bit barmy if you come here for a rest. I'm headed on a bit of a holiday myself," she said, nudging her bag with one foot. "A proper holiday, mind you, with beaches and sun and not a dragon in sight. I mentioned it to Charlie ages ago; I thought he'd change his mind and come with me, but a proper holiday has never been the sort of thing he'd enjoy. He'll cheerfully work himself to death, you know."

Harry didn't know about that – to him, Charlie was still a mass of pieces of information that Harry had managed to glean in the time they'd known each other, or that someone else had said about him. He hadn't been able to fit it into a coherent picture yet. Of all the Weasleys, Charlie was the only real mystery left.

"Honestly, I'm surprised he's lasted here as long as he has," she went on, raising her voice slightly and looking toward the door. "He's exactly the sort of person who you'd expect to be gored to death on his first day. A real brash moron who thinks he can fly better than anyone in the world. Really thinks he's God's gift to the broom."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see Charlie leaning in the doorway. 

"To be fair," he said, dropping his dragonhide work gloves on the table, "I _was_ nearly gored to death. It just took a year or so for it to happen."

"Punctuality has never been your strong suit," Lise agreed. 

Charlie eyed her bag warily, as if it were a living thing. "You're really going, then?"

"You thought I wouldn't?" She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I thought you'd have some sense. Who could leave all this for a week of getting sand in your bum and being stung by jellyfish?"

"There aren't jellyfish in Spain," she said, rolling her eyes, "which you would know if you ever bothered to go."

"Gingers don't tend to do well in the sun."

She looked at his freckled face. "I noticed." She turned to Harry suddenly. "Do you want to come? Even without your boyfriend?"

"What?" It came out too fast, and Harry could feel himself blushing as she smirked at him. He blinked twice. "No, thanks. I don't tend to do well in the sun, either."

She raised an eyebrow at that, but picked up her bag. "Suit yourselves. I'll be sure to owl you and tell you everything you're missing."

"You always do," Charlie sighed. 

She gave Charlie a quick hug and nodded to Harry as she slipped out the door. Charlie tapped the kettle with his wand for more tea and started peering round the kitchen shelves. "I'll make us some stew tonight, I think. How does that sound?" 

"I got home first," Harry said. "I'll make the supper."

"Right then, I'll go and have a bath, I think." He stopped at the doorway to his bedroom and looked back at Harry. He hesitated, and Harry thought he was going to say something about Lise, but after a moment Charlie's eyes flicked to the leather jacket he'd discarded in the hall. "A letter came for you today. It's in my jacket pocket. It looks rather important."

He was gone before Harry could thank him.

*

The letter was crammed into one of the side pockets, along with a small bottle of essence of dittany that Harry put back carefully as he turned the letter over. There was a familiar seal on the back that made his heart plummet. 

_Ministry of Magic_.

*

By the time Charlie was done with his bath dinner was ready. Harry had never really gotten the hang of the cooking charms Mrs. Weasley and Charlie himself used, so it took him twice as long to cook as Charlie, though he hadn't burnt anything too badly, either. He could feel Charlie watching him from the doorway as he pulled the heavy stew pot onto the counter and started ladling into bowls. 

"It must've been something important for the Ministry to bother sending an owl," Charlie finally said.

"They want me to appear in court to give testimony." It wasn't a shock, but Harry felt a quiver of apprehension and dread all the same. 

Charlie sat down at the table. "Mum was hoping to avoid that."

"So was I, but of course they need my testimony. I'm the only person who saw some of the Death Eaters around Voldemort. They're trying to claim they were under Imperius, but I know they weren't." 

"It did work for them last time as a defense," Charlie pointed out. 

"Right," Harry sighed. "That's why I need to be there this time, to make sure it doesn't work again."

"You don't _have_ to, Harry. I don't think many people will believe the lies again. They'll send the lot to Azkaban this time."

Harry thought of Stan Shunpike and Sirius and shivered. He didn't want a blanket decision made, either. "No," he said firmly. "I need to be there to help sort this out. It's my responsibility." Even if it was also the last thing on earth he wanted to do. 

Charlie nodded. "If you change your mind, though, just know that we'll figure something else out. You've done enough. The Ministry can handle things without you, if that's what you decide."

Harry rather doubted that was the case, actually, but he didn't need to tell Charlie that. 

*

After dinner, Charlie brought the firewhisky out to their spot on the porch and they passed it back and forth. They didn't talk, and Harry was happy enough to feel Charlie's warmth along his side, to know Charlie was there. Knowing he was headed back to London, back to the trials, made Harry want to hang on to every last second of peace he could.

"You can always come back," Charlie said quietly. "I'll be here."

"Of course I'll come back," Harry said immediately. It hadn't occurred to him that he wouldn't.

Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Charlie shrugged. "Once you get home and back into your life, I reckon it'll be hard to just leave everything again." He looked like he wanted to say more, but took a long drink of firewhisky instead.

They looked at each other for a long moment, Harry confused and Charlie almost… determined. His look reminded Harry of Ron every time they went into an exam: he wasn't sure he was going to like the consequences of what he was about to do, but he was going to do it anyway. There was something so intense about that expression that Harry had to look away. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, even though he knew that it was stupid to be nervous around Charlie. Charlie, who was looking at him almost expectantly, his lips parted just a bit. That was what got Harry, really – once he'd glanced at his lips he couldn't seem to stop, and everything that followed seemed inevitable. 

He leaned forward just a bit, just enough to close the slight distance between them, and pressed his mouth to Charlie's. There was a moment of tension when Charlie didn't respond, but then his lips softened under Harry's, and his hand came to rest lightly on the back of Harry's neck. It was a gentle kiss, so Harry was a little surprised at how much it affected him. He could feel his heartbeat racing, and heat was speeding across his skin. He gasped slightly and could feel Charlie start to pull back, which was the last thing Harry wanted. He followed, pressing against Charlie more firmly until Charlie returned the pressure and the kiss got hungrier.

Eventually Harry was the one to pull away somewhat, panting for breath and pressing his face into the warm hallow of Charlie's neck. Charlie's hand was carding through Harry's hair soothingly, and he could feel Charlie's body trembling lightly under him. 

This time when Charlie pulled back, he did it decisively. He was as flushed as Harry felt. He cleared his throat. "The train comes at eight tomorrow morning," he said quietly. "You could floo, of course, but I think Mum was right – it's a better trip by train. You should probably pack tonight." He stood slowly, disentangling his limbs from Harry regretfully. "Let me know if you need any help," he added on his way inside, his voice gruff.

*

Harry lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the cabin around him. He wasn't sure if he wanted Charlie to knock on the door or not, but as time went on and it was clear that Charlie wasn't going to, he was more disappointed than relieved. 

*

The next morning was foggy and cool, the world reduced to the few feet in front of him that Harry could see, the mountain peaks lost in the mist. Harry's packed bag sat by the door, a grim reminder as they quietly ate breakfast together. 

There was a brief moment when they both reached for it as they were leaving, their hands brushing lightly. Harry felt the warmth of Charlie's palm and saw Charlie swallow hard before letting the bag go. 

"Charlie…" Harry started, before trailing off uncertainly. 

"It's fine, Harry," Charlie said. "It's fine."

Harry frowned, brining one hand up to touch Charlie's cheek lightly. When Charlie didn't pull away, he leaned forward and brought their lips together briefly. "When I get back, we'll talk. Okay?"

Charlie nodded, his eyes darting away. "We should go. If we miss this one, the next train's not until tomorrow." His voice was quiet, subdued, but when Harry reached for his hand in the car he didn't pull away. 

*

"I'll be back," Harry told him again as they watched the train drawing into the station.

"Of course you will," Charlie said, smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I mean it," Harry said, taking his hand. "I'll be back soon."

Charlie brought his hand to his lips and gave it a chaste kiss. "I'm not going anywhere," he said finally. "If you take longer than you expect, I'll still be here."

Harry was still thinking about what he meant by that as he watched Charlie get smaller and smaller as the train pulled away from the station.


End file.
